


Equinox

by asterodia



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: AU where will dies in the second giant war, Alternate Universe, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, and nico is kind of clueless but we love him anyways, and persephone is the biggest bro, no solaces were harmed in the writing of this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:21:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24994555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asterodia/pseuds/asterodia
Summary: In which Nico receives a present from the underworld.
Relationships: Nico di Angelo/Will Solace
Comments: 3
Kudos: 138





	Equinox

Nico hated March.

Well, that was partly true. There were certainly some things about the month that brought a ghost of a smile to the young man’s lips, like the smell of the concrete after a particularly nasty thunderstorm or the flowers that were just beginning to battle their way out of the jagged cracks in the sidewalk. He liked taking early morning walks through the East Village, stopping at his favorite Kosher deli for hot pastrami and a strong, bitter cup of espresso. He even liked the tourists that clogged up the streets for their spring vacations and big city weddings-- the influx of people meant more pockets to pick, another month’s worth of rent for his cramped studio apartment on the corner of 4th and Broadway. 

But with March came the start of spring, and with the start of spring came… well, it came with the fiery attitude of his father, Hades, who was currently in the middle of nagging Nico’s ear off at the 77th Street Subway Station payphone. 

“Do you have enough money to take her to that little Italian restaurant she likes?” 

“Yes, Father,” Nico mumbled, absentmindedly chewing on some loose skin around his pinky finger. His hand itched for a cigarette, but Hazel would have his hide if she ever found out he went back to that old, unpleasant habit of his. 

“Because really, Nico, it wouldn’t be an issue for me to send you a few golden drachma every now and again--”

Nico groaned. Sometimes, it really sucked for your dad to be the _literal god of wealth_. “You know I won’t accept your money, sir.” The last time his father tried to slip him some cash, Nico donated it to an organization for endangered marine wildlife. Hades did not find it very amusing.

“Very well,” Hades said, his voice crackling through the phone. “She’ll be out on the platform in a few minutes. Take care of her, son.”

“Right.”

“And remind her to wear sunscreen! Six months in the underworld--” 

Nico hung up the phone. Around him, hundreds of people made their way across the concrete platform, blissfully unaware of the dangers that lurked just beneath the surface of their grimy, urine-soaked labyrinth. 

The New York City subway system was perhaps the most impressive display of the Mist, which protected mortals from witnessing the truest forms of monsters, gods, and other mythological beings. As trains hauled commuters all over the city, they also traversed deep into the underground, ferrying souls to their final resting places in the Fields of Asphodel, the Fields of Punishment, or, if they were particularly lucky, Elysium. The main entrance used to be in Los Angeles, beneath DOA Recording Studios; however, as the tensions in Olympus began to relax after the Second Giant War, Hades decided to relocate his realm of the dead father east-- for the sake of centralization, of course. (Nico suspected that his decision to stay in the Big Apple after leaving camp had something to do with it, as well, but he would never say that out loud).

Twice a year, however, a different type of passenger embarked on the perilous journey between Manhattan and the underworld. She always packed lightly, bringing with her nothing but a beaten-up leather suitcase and a fistful of seeds. A millenia ago, this particular visitor would have drawn a crowd of thousands, all aching to catch a glimpse of the goddess as she sprang up from the earth and brought the sweetness of springtime to their barren fields and sunken-eyed cattle. Now, as she pushed her way through the sea of wide-eyed travelers and drab-looking businessmen, no one so much as paused to spare Persephone a second glance. No one except for Nico, that is. 

“ _Mamma,_ ” Nico sighed as he pressed his face into her warm, caramel-toned arms. “I’ve missed you.”

Persephone laughed, raking a hand through his wild, dark hair. “Hello, _passerotto._ You’ve grown since I’ve last seen you!”

Nico and his stepmother had a complicated history. When he and Bianca were young, Persephone refused to have any part in the duo’s upbringing, even after the death of their mortal mother, Maria. Perhaps she thought that it would show weakness to have a hand in the products of her husband’s infidelity, or maybe it was because she simply didn’t enjoy the company of children. Nico didn’t know, nor was he particularly inclined to find out. Regardless, _maternal_ was the last word he would use to describe the queen of Hell.

That all changed when Bianca died, though. Loss has a weird way of bringing people together, even if those people are a scrappy 12-year-old boy and an immortal vegetation deity. Persephone may not have been able to _understand_ Nico di Angelo, but she could at least empathize with his grief-- the feeling that the thing you once loved so fiercely could be ripped away in a matter of seconds. The two were good for each other, in that regard; through pain came compassion, and through compassion came something that felt a little bit like love. 

“ _Papà_ made us reservations at Del Posto,” Nico said. “We have some time to go drop your bag off at my place, though.”

“Oh, don’t tell me your father gave you a hard time again,” Persephone said with a frown. 

Nico chuckled, taking Persephone’s bag with both arms. “An equinox wouldn’t be complete without Father giving me a hard time. Oi, _Mamma,”_ Nico said with a grunt. “What’s in this suitcase? It’s much heavier than last year’s.” 

“I may have brought you another gift from the underworld,” his stepmother said with a sly smile. “You can open it after dinner.”

Del Posto was fabulous, as always. Nico ordered some chicken dish he couldn’t pronounce (and he _spoke_ Italian, for Christ’s sake!), and Persephone got the gnocchi with truffle oil. When it came time for the bill, Nico nearly fell out of his seat-- had it _always_ that expensive? He had just enough to pay for the two of them, including tip. Tomorrow, he’d need to hit up Times Square, or maybe even Tribeca. Last time he went out on a “work trip”, he was able to snatch a few grand off a busty blonde that looked like she could be one of the Real Housewives-- after that, he was set for _weeks._

Persephone must have noticed his inner turmoil. “You still aren’t taking your father’s money,” she stated matter-of-factly.

“And I thought Hecate was the goddess of intuition.”

“Honey,” Persephone said with a frown. “He really is trying, you know. Try to take it easy on him.”

“Well, he needs to try harder,” Nico mumbled, scuffing his shoe against the glossy, hardwood floor. “I don’t care about the money. If he really cared, he would…”

Nico couldn’t bring himself to finish the thought. The Second Giant War had ended over two years ago, and yet he still couldn’t stop himself from thinking about _him._ Will had been so brave, throwing himself directly in the line of fire to protect his family, his home. He received a hero’s funeral, of course; his burial shroud was a deep, golden color, decorated with the handprints of every person whose life he saved while working in the infirmary. 

Nico had spent that day at the sword fighting arena, cutting the heads off of hundreds of straw dummies so viciously that their remains had scattered all over camp. 

“Is this about your Apollo boy?” Persephone said with a knowing glance. Nico blushed a deep, crimson red.

“He is-- first of all, he wasn’t my _boy,_ and second of all, it doesn’t matter. He’s dead. _”_

The goddess hummed, drumming her fingers on the white tablecloth. “Right. Well, I believe it’s time for your present now, _passerotto._ Let’s go home now, yea?”

They walked to Nico’s apartment in a comfortable silence. The city glimmered in the faint glow of the setting sun, which made Nico wonder if Apollo was showing off just for them. He always loved when his cousin came to visit-- Persephone’s daisies meant that he could finally make crowns for the wood nymphs, who _oo’ed_ and _ahh’ed_ like Apollo was the greatest thing since sliced bread. Personally, Nico did not see the appeal.

“Are you sure I can’t add a rooftop garden to your building, my sweet?” Persephone asked as they entered the studio. “It would look so much more lovely with some strawberry plants and gardenias.”

“Absolutely not,” Nico groaned. “Especially when I’m the one paying rent on this place. How long are you staying for this time, anyways?”

“Another week, I suppose. Demeter wants me in California to help out with the droughts.”

“Freakin’ _Nonna_ ,” Nico groaned as he flopped onto the couch. “I never get any time with you.”

“Well, you have me now,” Persephone said, pushing the dark-haired boy just enough to plop down next to him. “And… well, something else, too.”

“Is this about my present?” Nico always worried when his stepmother brought him gifts from the underworld. One time, she gave him an actual fear demon. _That_ had not been a pleasant experience. 

Persephone smiled. “Your father and I had a conversation before I left, Nico. We both agreed that you deserved something special from the two of us, especially after all you’ve gone through over the past several years.” 

Well, this was new. 

“Okay?” Nico said, drawing out the _a_ sound. “What is it?”

Persephone opened your suitcase. Inside, there was a little metal contraption, the shape of which resembled a music box. It was plated with ornately-carved gold detailing, and it looked so expensive that Nico was nervous to touch it. 

“Did you get me a box?” Nico joked, his voice shaking slightly. Whatever this thing was, it was _powerful_ \-- he could sense its aura just by looking at it. 

“The box is not the gift, Nico. It’s what’s _inside_ the box that matters.” 

Persephone picked up the object with two hands. Gingerly, she held it out to Nico, who took it with some hesitation.

“May I--?”

“Yes,” Persephone said, giggling at the excitement of her own secret. “You may.”

Nico opened the box. Light seemed to ooze out in every direction, smothering the room with its intense, golden rays. Suddenly, his mind was flooded with memories of camp: singing off-key with his friends at the evening bonfires, taking down a Hermes kid during an intense game of Capture the Flag, flinging spaghetti noodles at Jason Grace when he said something stupid (which was pretty much all the time). He thought about Percy, Annabeth, Leo, Piper, heck, even Coach Hedge… but most of all, he thought about _Will_ , the pesky little healer who managed to steal Nico’s heart without even trying.

Nico thought about Will’s beautiful, sun-kissed hair, and his cornflower blue eyes. The way he played the guitar so horribly that it actually gave Nico an earache one time, and the fact that it didn’t even matter because being around Will was sweeter than any symphony could be. _Oh_ , and his smile, too, and the little gap between his two front teeth that Nico thought made him look like an elven prince. His freckles, his laugh, his compassion… his everything. Will. Just Will.

Nico hadn’t realized that he shut his eyes. When he opened them, he was a bit disappointed to see an empty room, the same one that they had started in. He had thought… well. It didn’t matter what he thought. Because Will was still gone, and Nico was still alone, and…

“Hey, Death Boy.” Nico whipped around, his eyes as wide as saucers. Solace was standing next to his stepmother, who looked infinitely pleased with herself. He looked tired, and a bit too skinny for Nico’s liking, but he was alive. So wonderfully, remarkably alive. 

“Says the one who _literally died_ , Solace,” Nico managed to get out. “Which, by the way, was totally rude of you.” 

Will smirked. “Sorry. I’ll do better next time.” 

“ _Mamma_ ,” Nico said, looking at Persephone. “Is this a trick?”

Persephone looked horrified. “No. _No,_ my sweet. Your Apollo boy is here to stay. You can thank your father for that one later.”

“Oh,” Nico breathed. “Oh, Will.”

And then Will collided into him so hard that Nico saw stars, and they were kissing, and for the first time in Nico’s life, everything was okay.

**Author's Note:**

> a short little fic that wouldn't leave me alone until i wrote it. thanks for reading!


End file.
